


La Vie Est Belle

by opusqe



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Bullying, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opusqe/pseuds/opusqe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Modern!Teen!AU) Grantaire is a small town boy, but his life's taken a turn for the worse. Bullies take a liking to him because he's gay, and finally the bullying goes too far. Grantaire's mother sends him to Paris to a boarding school, where he meets a friend from tumblr - the mysterious 'abarricadebuilder.' (Trigger warning: Bullying, self harm. Rated M for violence in first chapter and for planned sexual content.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Claude, is that you?”

I closed the door behind me, sucking in a deep breath. “No, Maman…” It wasn’t here boyfriend, it was me, her son. But at this moment in time he wasn’t a pretty sight. My jacket was torn in multiple places, and my shirt was covered in dirt. My tie was loose and one shoe had gone missing. Bruises and scratches were hidden under a layer of grime and blood, but still painful nevertheless.

“Grantaire, what are you doing home so early?—Oh, my…” Mama had exited the kitchen, but now she was standing in front of me and observing what had become of me. Her fingers gently brushed some of my hair from my face. “What happened to you, mon garçon chéri?”

“This has been happening for years, Maman…I-I ran away from them...They chased me out of the parking lot and down the road…” I leant against her, burying my face in her hair. “I...I didn’t think it would happen here too, Maman, I’m tired of this…”

“This isn’t your fault, Grantaire. You cannot help who you are.” She patted my back gently. “You can stay home…”

I gasped suddenly, her hand hitting the worst of my injuries. As small as this outburst was, it gave away how painful it was. She pulled back, a puzzled look on her face.

“Grantaire, chéri, take off your shirt….”

I shook my head quickly. “N-Non….”

“Grantaire—”

“Mére!”

She gave me a look, that look when a parent wants you to do something you truly do not wish to do. I sighed, peeling my coat off reluctantly. She glanced at my back and frowned, obviously seeing the blood that stained my white uniform shirt, and waited for me as I unbuttoned it. Once I had finished with it, I let it fall to the floor.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke. “That’s it, I am calling the school and speaking with the principal. You’re not going there any more.”

I ducked my head. “Maman, s’il vous plait—”

“My son is getting bullied, of course I will make a big deal! They are Catholics, just as you are. They should treat you as their equals, you are not superior or inferior to them.”

I sighed and nodded. “I think I’ll go shower and get this blood off.”

Of course, no matter what school I went to there would be people who did not approve of my sexuality. But in my mother’s eyes, this was too far. I was scarred, mentally, emotionally, and physically. She only saw the back; she did not see my stomach.

Catholic school. The Catholics were supposed to be nice, accepting people. But no, not in my world. I had changed schools three time since the beginning of what the Americans would call high school.

The water ran down my body and I closed my eyes. Now, to match the scars on my wrists and thighs, there was a big scar on my back. I was seventeen and I had already attempted suicide twice.

I stepped out of the shower and looked at my reflections in the mirror. Seventeen and I had the bags under my eyes that resembled an old man’s.

“No man likes me for who I am,” I sighed, glancing around for my razor to shave. After a moment of running through my thoughts, trying to recall where I had put it, it hit me. Maman had taken my razor. “Bless her,” I muttered, turning back to my reflection. My eyes trailed downward, falling to my stomach and pelvic areas. Written in permanent marker, still clear as day, were some painful words. ‘Too small to please’ and ‘Dicks are meant to fuck women not men.’ 

What little self esteem I once had was now gone.

There was a knock on the door. “Get dressed, chéri, we’ve got to go to the hospital.”

I sighed. “Oui, Maman.” I was careful with my white V-neck and pulled on my red skinny jeans. This would be my fifth trip to the emergency room in one year.

***

“Our boy has stitches because of those…those garçons stupides! Graintaire, fils, tell them what they did to you.”

I glanced down at the floor, taking a deep breath. Claude’s presence wasn’t exactly welcome by me, but his support was nice. In this circumstance, however, I did not wish to talk.

“Monsieur, they took a pocket knife to my shoulder and carved the word ‘faggot’ into my skin. Since I arrived here, they have called me names of all kinds. In addition to the scar on my back, they took a permanent marker and wrote demeaning things on my stomach and pelvis.” I took another deep breath. “And because of them, I lack self-esteem. When I came here, I expected to be treated normally, just as they treat their siblings and friends. But I have been treated as inferior. A man should be allowed to love whomever he pleases; but apparently I am not included.”

M. Gérard leant back in his seat, looking at me. He looked to my mére, then to Claude.

“I wish I could help you, Grantaire.”

Maman blinked. “You can’t help him?!”

“We need proof, Madame.”

“We have proof—”

“Proof that they did it. We can, of course, have the boys come in—”

“No!” I protested quickly. If my reluctance was not proof, what could be considered proof. “I cannot see them.” I turned to Maman. “S’il vous plait, do not make me stay. Can we go home now?” 

She nodded, standing. “Go ahead, to the car, chéri.”

I returned the nod, standing and hurrying out of the office and school. Once in the safety of the school parking lot, I pulled out my phone to look at my Tumblr. 

“Hey, dick lover.”

I stopped in my place, quickly slipping my phone into my pocket. I was texting a friend from Tumblr, and I did not wish to share our texts.

“Can’t believe you decided to show your face after that beating we gave you the other day. Did maman come to take care of you?”

I turned slightly to face my attackers. Jean-Luc, Michel, Léonard and Yves. Jean-Luc was their leader and the one who directed the others to torture me. 

“Is that your proof that you are happy to see us?” Léo teased, nodding to the bulge in my jeans that was actually my phone.

“Leave me alone,” I muttered. In my pocket, the phone made a sound. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath.

“Who’s texting you, faggot?” Jean-Luc sneered. He nodded to his friends. “Get the phone.”

Before I could react, Michel and Yves pushed me against the wall and Léo reached into my pocket to grab my phone. Jean-Luc snatched the phone, looking at it.

“Who is abarricadebuilder?” he laughed.

“He is a friend,” I answered, struggling against the two boys. “Please, give me my phone back.”

He laughed. “Look at this last message. ‘You should not be ashamed of who you are, baby.’ Is this your boyfriend?”

More or less, abarricadebuilder was my boyfriend. He and I spoke every day, all the time, via text messages and phone calls, and even Tumblr, where we met. To spice up our relationship, we kept our faces to ourselves and our real names were a secret. He called me by various pet names, and I adored each one. I enjoyed flirting with him, and he was the only person who made me happy.

“No answer. Must be his boyfriend. Throw a few punches his way, Michel.”

Once again, they ganged up on me before I could react. A fist connected with my jaw, and another with my nose. Between punches I was able to glimpse Jean-Luc texting with my phone. I took another punch to the eye just as my phone’s ringer went off. 

“Oh la la, the boyfriend is calling. Cover his mouth, can’t let him hear!”

I opened my mouth to object, but Yves’ hand quickly covered me and kept me from speaking. The phone was turned on and my heart practically stopped beating.

“Is something wrong, freedomseeker? Babe, that last message—”

“This isn’t freedomseeker.” Jean-Luc smirked at me. “I have some bad news for you about your precious friend.”

“You give the phone back to him right now—”

“Oh non, I cannot do that. He is occupied at the moment. But he asked me to pass on the message. He never wants to see you again, and he most definitely does not wish to hear from you.”

“I want to hear it come from him—”

The button pressed, my phone turned off before my beloved abarricadebuilder could finish his sentence. Another punch was delivered to my stomach. They let me go and I hit the ground, gasping. Jean-Luc threw the device to the ground, that frightening smirk still on his horrifying face. Extending a hand, I groped around for my phone; just as my fingers brushed the side, Léo stepped on my hand. I gasped again, this time wincing in pain.

“You’re leaving, which is good,” Jean-Luc said. “Our school is better without you.”

I attempted to move my hand, feeling tears prickling my eyes. 

“Go kill yourself, faggot.”

The foot lifted and I quickly pulled my hand and phone back. The four of them left, and I curled up on myself.

The feeling of being hated for being myself really bothered me. I wanted to be loved by someone other than my mére and her boyfriend. Nasty rumours had spread about me, ruining my reputation; since then I was friendless, and the only friends I had were halfway across the world. They were bloggers, like myself, and preferred to be away from society.

After a few minutes of self-loathing in the dirt and wallowing in my own sorrows, I got to my feet. Still trembling, I sat in the back seat of Maman’s car and curled up.

My phone rang.

“Bonjour?” I murmured once I had turned it on.

“Freedomseeker, baby, who was that? Are you okay?”

I swallowed and shook my head. “Non...I need you so much, abarricadebuilder.”

“Talk to me, baby.”

“I-I can’t do this. I can’t go on. Nobody wants me, nobody needs me….I h-have tried everything…”

“Baby, don’t you say that! I want you, I need you. Je t’aime beaucoup, mon amour.”

“I love you too, but I can’t—”

“You have to stay strong, freedomseeker! If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. I need you. S’il vous plait….Do this for me.”

My boyfriend was the best man in the entire world. I wished we did not live so far apart, but on Tumblr things like that seemed to happen every day. I wanted to meet him in person, to have him hold me in his arms. I imagined that it would be the most blissful experience in the world, in my life.

I closed my eyes. “Je t’aime,” I whispered.

“Je t’aime trop, freedomseeker. Now, if this persists, you need to tell me and I’ll kick some arse.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He was so great at making me feel good about myself. That’s why I loved him as much as I did despite our daily phone calls with him.

“You’re perfect the way you are, freedomseeker. Don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise. Je t’aime.”

I glanced out the window, noticing Claude and Maman coming towards the car.

“How bad did they hurt you?”

“A few punches, not too bad.”

“You said something the other day about going to the hospital.”

“It was an...an allergic reaction. Had to get my stomach pumped.”

“What did you eat?”

“Pecans.”

He hummed. “Right, you’re allergic to nuts. Look, I must go, it is about time for dinner here. Je t’aime beaucoup, baby.”

“Je t’aime trop. Text me when you have finished eating.”

“Will do, baby. Take care.”

I ended the call as Maman opened her door. She had a wide smile on her face, but it rapidly faded as she sat in the passenger’s seat. 

“There is a new bruise on your eye.”

“It is nothing, Maman,” I sighed, glancing at my phone.

M. Gérard gave us the name of a boarding school in Paris. We have decided to send you there.”

My jaw dropped. “Boarding school?!”

“The school stresses equality and allows electronics. You would still havve your phone and your laptop and that blog. He has sent over your file, we’ll be flying to the city on Saturday.”

It was Thursday.

“You will be rooming with another boy, but they’ll be giving you his name and room assignment when we arrive. Claude will help with the move. You and I will pack tomorrow, then go to the stores to get you new books and clothes.”

I cleared my throat.

“Now, don’t look at my like that, Grantaire.”

“I will need my razor back, and I will be wanting bandages.”

She sighed, nodding. “Which is where your roommate will be coming in.”


	2. Chapitre deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abarricadebuilder makes his first appearance and a special cameo appearance in this chapter, guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every other day, guys!

Friday passed too quickly. I explained my situation to abarricadebuilder and he was glad that I was getting away. He wanted to meet up with me, since he lived in the city; we scheduled a date for the week after my arrival, at the Eiffel Tower.

I learnt upon my arrival that the school was co-ed, and that the only two things not co-ed were dorms and bathrooms. But each dorm was nice; I caught a glimpse of one in passing, and I was able to figure out there were two students per room: Two desks, two beds, a large closet, and a bathroom.

The dorm leader was an older man, by the name of Valjean. He was a friendly fellow, it seemed. He informed me that I was in his dorm, which he had named Dorm 24601 just to be the cool dorm leader. Also, he added, that he would be my English teacher.

“So, Grantaire,” he said, “you will be rooming in Dorm C, with a boy by the name of Enjolras. Smart boy, very likable and very responsible.”

I glanced sidelong at my mother, and she offered a small smile. “This boy sounds nice, chéri.”

Valjean knocked on a door, which disrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the real world. I noticed the name Enjolras on the door, and my name directly under it. Above both names was the number three, followed by the letter ‘c.’ After a beat, the door opened.

Sacré bleu.

This Enjolras boy was utterly gorgeous. His hair, a dirty blonde colour, was wavy and perhaps a bit longer than mine. Laugh lines on either side of his mouth proved to me he spoke often, and hopefully he was cheerful and laughed often. Those captivating eyes of his were blue, and immediately I noticed an adventurous glint in them that I found very attractive. He was a very attractive young man, in my eyes.

“Enjolras,” Valjean said, rotating a bit so he was at an angle to me and facing Enjolras, “this is your new roommate, Grantaire.”

Without pause, Enjolras took my hand in his own and shook it firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, old boy.” He smiled at my mère. “And you too, madame. Let me take those bags from you.” He took my suitcase and art bag from Maman’s hands, stepping back into the room to let me pass.

“I can take it from here, Maman,” I told her, turning to face her. “I will call you at least once a week.”

She smiled and kissed my cheek. “I hope so. I will miss you, chéri. Take care of yourself, s’il te plait.”

“You too, Maman. Je t’aime.”

She smiled at my words before walking away with Valjean. Turning and entering the room, I closed the door behind me. I found myself alone with the gorgeous Enjolras.

He smiled at me, and I bit my lip to refrain from saying something stupid. “So, Grantaire. Tell me about yourself?”

And the moment was ruined.

“There is not much to tell,” I started. “I am seventeen, and I live with my mère. I never knew my père, he died when I was young. I hope to be an artist, or actor, when I am out of university. I am openly gay, not that you would really care…And I am a fanboy.”

He raised an eyebrow at me just before I turned to begin unpacking my belongings. 

“A fanboy?” he echoed. “Do you have a tumblr?”

I nodded. “Oui, of course.”

“Do you mind if I follow you?”

“Certainly, and I’ll follow back. I always do.”

“What is your tumblr?”

“Freedomseeker.”

I opened my art bag, withdrawing one of my paintings from it, and just as I placed it on the bed I felt a pair of arms around me. At first I just blinked, and in an instant I realised Enjolras was dipping me. There was no time to protest, because as soon as I was entirely dipped his lips were against mine. I hesitated briefly, but then responded by wrapping my arms around his neck and reciprocating the kiss. 

When it had ended, much to my chagrin, I found myself panting softly and slightly dazed by the action. My cheeks felt warm and my fingers were clenched and clutching onto his shirt. I gazed up at him, biting my lip.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined, babe.”

I blinked up at him, not saying a word. But then it dawned on me.

“Abarricadebuilder…”  
He smiled and kissed me again before setting me upright. His arms, however, remained around my waist; his hold was tight.

“How are you holding up, baby?” he asked. “Nice and strong, I hope? That bruise around your eye is almost healed up.”

“I’m fine, Enjolras.” It was odd to call him by his real name; I was so used to calling him by his tumblr URL. It was also odd to be held in his arms at long last, but the feeling was welcome and absolutely wonderful. “I’m fine…”

“Your mère slipped me a note, by the way. I read it while you said goodbye. It went to explain that I am to have possession of your razor until you need to shave, and when you do I am to watch you.”

I buried my face in his neck at this remark.

“Grantaire, do you…”

I nodded. His hold on me grew a bit tighter.

“Oh, please, please do not continue with it,” he pleaded quietly. “If you ever have the urge to do it again, please tell me. We are together now, I will keep you from any harm.”

“I am afraid of people,” I whispered. “I am scared of what people think of me, I don’t think I have any confidence in myself.”

“I will make you see yourself the way you should, the way I see you.” His hand gently brushed against my cheek. “Forget the others.”

I looked up at him, and kissed his jaw. “Je t’aime.”

He smiled, raising his hand a little more to move some hair from my face. “You are so very beautiful, mon ange.” He kissed me softly, sighing. “It is almost time for dinner, are you hungry?”

“No, but than you,” I answered, shaking my head. I was about to continue before he cut me off.

“Then let’s go out!”

“Pardon?”

“There is so much for you to see!” He let go of me, running to the closet and taking out a coat. It was red, but it matched his attire very well. “My car is in the lot, if you want to drive. It is most likely faster to walk, but I would like to keep your options open. Driving is usually done when one’s legs are sore, or one is too lazy to walk.”

I glanced at my bad, then back to him. “On one condition.”

He blinked. “Sure, anything.”

“When we come back, can we push our beds together?”

He grinned. “Baiser oui!”

I grabbed my coat and pulled it on, and he took my hand. Then he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Our date next Saturday.”

I paused before joining in with his laughter. “We are still going.”

He opened the door and pulled me along down the hall. I kept my hand tight in his, feeling my heart skip a bear. I had only just met my boyfriend in person for the first time, and I was already happier than I had ever been in my entire life.

But that didn’t change the fact that I still wanted to keep secrets.

“Is there anywhere in particular you want to go to?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Non, not really. But on the way back I do, just to a drugstore or something.”

“For…?”

“A little something I need to get by.”

He nodded, running a hand across the back of my hand. We walked in a comfortable, almost soothing silence until we made it to the main hall. There was a whistle behind us, and when he turned I did too.

“Where are you off to, Enjolras?”

It was girl, and she was rather beautiful in my eyes. She regarded me with an observant eye, obviously trying to size me up. Perhaps she was attracted to Enjolras.

“I am showing the new boy the city,” Enjolras told her, a small smile on his face.

“The new boy, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, showing that she was a bit skeptical of us— of Enjolras’s words and my being the new student. “If he is so new, why are you already holding his hand and regarding him with a loving eye?”

“The new boy, my boyfriend of six months.” He shrugged, winking at me.

“That’s freedomseeker? Mon dieu, Enjolras, he’s handsome.”

“He’s mine, back off,” he laughed, draping an arm over me. “Cosette, this is Grantaire. Grantaire, this is is my friend, Cosette.”

I bowed my head to her, and she smiled in return.

“He’s awfully shy.”

“Hush, he has had a rough life.”

“Meet me and Marius at the ABC Café?”

Enjolras nodded. “Eight o’clock?”

She nodded back at him. “Oui, that sounds good. Have fun and be sure to use a condom!”

I coughed at that last remark, face flushing. Enjolras’s lips gently touched my temple in what I figured was assurance. “She is only joking, baby, I promise.”

I nodded my understanding. I love m Enjolras with all of my heart, there was no doubt about that. But as far as love making went, I was not ready and did not exactly wish to put it in my agenda.

“Oh, baby, don’t worry about it. I’m not going to pressure you or force you into it. Only when we are both ready for it.”

I smiled lightly. “Enjolras, you are just…”

“Mediocre?” he supplied.

I was going to say perfect. “No, that’s not the right word!”

“Of course it is! I am such a mediocre man, not yet an adult but no longer a child.” He glanced down at me. “A mediocre man with a perfectly imperfect boyfriend.”

Enjolras’s words made my mind buzz with thoughts. Perfectly imperfect. I wasn’t perfectly imperfect, I was imperfectly imperfect. He was perfectly imperfect; at least his faults were accepted by society. My faults were frowned upon by everyone I knew. Naturally I wanted to point out he was wrong, but before I could speak he cut me off with a deep kiss.

This kiss got me thinking more. Right now, Enjolras and I had stopped in the middle of a busy Paris sidewalk to share a kiss. For once in my life, I realised I felt safe. I had no one to fear within my school; the only people I had to be afraid of were those outside of the school. But this was the city of Paris! Parisians, for the most part, were accepting of homosexuals such as myself and transgender people.

“I’m so glad we finally found each other,” he murmured against my lips.

I nodded slightly. “I couldn’t agree more.” My hand slid to his chest, gently pressing on it. I curled my fingers to clutch at his shirt tightly. “But please, don’t call yourself mediocre. You are so much more.”

“Oh, tais-tois,” he laughed. “Want to go to the theatre?”

I blinked. “I don’t have any money.”

“We don’t need money.” He started towards a parking garage, but then stopped. “I have a better idea. Come on.” He turned abruptly, hailing a cab. Once it had pulled over, we climbed in and he kept a protective arm around my waist.

“Where are you off to, boys?”

“L’arc de Triomphe,” Enjolras answered. 

I glanced out the window, but then it proved that one glance was not enough. I slid back, closer to the window, and found myself pressing my nose against the glass. Enjolras pushed up against my back, pointing out various sights to me. In the distance, I could see a lot of things. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe. There were several restaurants and clothing stores he recommended as well. One place he pointed out that really caught my eye was an acting agency. Before we passed, I wrote the number down and saved it into my phone.

“So you are an actor?” he asked. 

I nodded. “Oui, I love the stage. I have been looking for an agent.”

He hummed. “I know that there are auditions soon for Equus, within the next couple days.”

Making a mental note, I nodded. I would get an agent and have them get an audition time for me.

The cab came to a halt and Enjolras paid as I climbed out onto the street. My jaw dropped briefly and suddenly I was blinded. When I turned, blinking, I saw that he had a camera in hand.

“Oh no…”

“You don’t want memories?” he asked. “This is a Kodak moment, babe. Our first date!”

“I look horrid in every picture.”

“Yet you look amazing in the first picture I took of you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, you’re right. You look horrible.” He kissed my cheek. “Babe, you have got to be optimistic.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple.”

“You want a drink? And yes, it is that simple.”

“Yeah, um...Chardonnay for me.”

He blinked. “Chardonnay? You’re seventeen, you can’t drink.”

I glanced away. “But I do.”  His hand curled around mine. My bad habit was drinking. I had been drinking since I was fifteen. I was addicted.

“Baby, you really shouldn’t—”

“But I do!” I exclaimed. “I can’t help it. When my père died, I learnt it was alcohol what killed him. I started drinking two years ago, just after the bullying started. I wanted to die, and I figured the drinking would help. But it has only made dealing with the bullies and my life a little easier to stand, but it has made me a little more suicidal. I want to stop, I really do. I want to be normal. But the stereotypical normal person is a heterosexual caucasian male ages eighteen to thirty-five. I want to be like one of those hipster people, like you. I want to be normal!”

His smile had faded about halfway through my rant, and now his eyebrow had furrowed.

“You don’t want to be like me,” he said quietly.

“I really do! I’ve dealt with bullies for years. I have slit my wrists and thighs, using it as a cry for help. I have tried to be someone I’m not to please society. I look at you, and I see the epitome of man. You are a happy, courageous part of the majority. You do not get persecuted for being you!”

He pulled me aside, into an alleyway. His eyes locked with mine.

“You don’t know as much as you think you do. I was orphaned, never knew my parents. I was put into foster home after foster home. Finally the agency gave up and sent me here. Don’t think I haven’t hurt myself. Bullies are bad, but at least you have a family.”

“At least you have people who care about you,” I snapped. “My mère sent me here to let go of her burden. She may be okay with her son being gay, but she’s not okay with me being her son. You’re the only one who cares.”

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t just care about you. I love you, I need you, I want you. I am so dependent on you, but you haven’t seen that part of me yet.”

I sank to the ground, watching as he fell with me. His arms wrapped around me and cradled me close.

“I love you,” I breathed

“I love you too, Grantaire. Baby, I love you so much.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I’m so sorry.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Help me.”


	3. Chapitre Trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place 4 months after Chapter 2, hope y'all enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very angst - definitely not as tragic as Chapter 1, but definitely sadder. I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST SAD CHAPTER. (Well, the worst of it. I have something minor planned for later but I'm not telling. Ehehe.)

The bell ran, awakening me from my sleep. Someone nudged me, and I realised it was Enjolras when he spoke. “Gorgeous, you know. When you sleep.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my ear as he picked up my books and tangled his fingers in my hair. “Time to head back to the dorm.”

I yawned, blinking blearily. “Don’t want to move,” I mumbled.

He laughed and I furrowed my brow, hiding my face in my arms as they had been before. “Come on, babe. No more classes for a week. Put your arms ‘round my neck, I’ll carry you.”

I smiled sleepily, putting my arms around his neck. He lifted me in bridal fashion, much to my excitement, and smiled at me. Satisfied with this sight, the sight of him smiling, I buried my face in his coat, letting my guard down and attempting to fall asleep again. His arms were the only comfort I like to seek when tired, even more than that of my own bed.

“Why are you so tired?” he asked as I nuzzled his chest.

“I was up late studying for that test…”

“And you went to bed when?”

“Hm...Half past two.”

“You dork, staying up late before an exam doesn’t help, it makes things so much worse.”

I chuckled, feeling my mind wake up a little. And to think I was lucky enough to have Enjolras for as long as I did. A week after this and it would be our tenth month anniversary - four months previously we had met for the first time, after six months of our “anonymous” dating.

I hadn’t had a hangover in four months.

I hadn’t hurt myself in four months.

“Go to bed at eleven next time, okay?”

I hummed in acknowledgement, pressing a lazy kiss to his shoulder. By this point I was wide awake, but I was lazy and he was too comfortable for words.

“All right now, you lazy arse. Open the door.”

I whined, but nevertheless reached out and opened the door to our room. Over my four months here, I had made quite a few friends and learnt that people really didn’t care. For instance, our friend Eponine had found Enjolras and myself in the middle of a very heated makeout session— she walked in just as the groping began. And the fact that he had just picked me up and walked out of class while carrying me through the halls was also to be put into consideration. We had passed students and teachers alike, yet the only words I had heard spoken were “cutest couple on campus.” The most hateful words to leave a person’s lips were “I’m so jealous of Grantaire” or, in very few cases, “I am so jealous of Enjolras.”

Enjolras put me down on the bed, then fell beside me. “I love you so much, Grantaire,” he murmured, brushing a stray stand of my hair from my face. “How did I get so lucky to get you?”

I pressed my nose against his. “I don’t know,” I giggled. I cupped his cheek in my hand, smiling and kissing him softly. “But you’ve turned my world upside-down.” I kissed him again before adding, “You’ve turned it right-side-up.”

“Tais-toi, you dork, you’re making this all go straight to my head.” He kissed me in turn, then moved down to kiss my neck. I felt his cool breath wash over my sensitive skin. “It looks as though that hickey I gave you needs refreshing,” he purred. Nibbling my neck and then licking the bite, he was able to get a gasp out of me.

But his affections changed from our last “session.” I couldn’t say I didn’t like it.

His kisses, though to my neck, grew more passionate and his hand moved from my shoulder to my chest. He was able to elicit a groan from me, and I clutched at the back of his shirt. Each open-mouthed kiss turned me on a little more than each previous one.

“Grantaire,” he murmured against my skin, “you are so intoxicating.”

“Enjolras...May I ask a question?”

He hummed, hand tracing down to my stomach. “Of course, anything.”

I felt my cheeks burn up and I glanced away. “Should we, um...Should we use a condom?”

His head snapped up, his eyes immediately locking with mine. “Grantaire, do you mean…”

I nodded quickly. “Oui, I do mean it.”

He shifted a little, then shrugged. “We can, if you’d prefer. It won’t exactly make a difference.” He chuckled a bit. “It’s not like either of us can have children...Unless you are hiding something from me.”

I snorted, then quieted down a bit. “Would you ever want children?”

He took my chin in his hand and smiled. “I suppose there would be no harm if I did. I don’t want many, only one or two.”

I nodded, then kissed him quickly. He reciprocated the kiss, even when I deepened it. His hand finally made it to the hem of my shirt, and he began to unbutton it. I thought about the scars on my wrists, and the way he had kissed them so tenderly when he first saw them. I silently wished he wouldn’t continue, but now I knew I was ready for him to take me all the way.

His hands made their way down to my belt, undoing the buckle and sliding it out from the loops. What if he saw me and found me unsatisfactory? Would he leave, or just tell me to my face? He kissed my neck, making his way down to my stomach. My shirt hung open, but still covered my arms and back. 

What if he saw my back? This made me uncomfortable. I wiggled under the attention, and he captured my lips in another kiss. I responded by returning the kiss, feeling him take off the shirt. This wouldn’t end well, I could tell; there was only one thing I could do.

“En-Enjolras,” I stammered, “I...I don’t know if I’m quite r-ready yet…”

He broke the kiss, keeping his face close. “Grantaire, is something wrong?” he asked. 

I hesitated before shaking my head. “No, I’m fine,” I answered.

His brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?” he repeated, this time a little more quiet.

I looked away. “I-I can’t let you see…”

“See what? Grantaire, mon amour, it must be something if you will not let me see.”

I really didn’t want to show him. What if he really didn’t like what it was? That ugly scar that permanently marked my body, showing to the world what I truly was. I did not wish for him to pity me, either, and I knew I would be pitied if he saw. 

I felt his hands on my shirt again, gently pulling it from my shoulders. “Let me see,” he said softly. “S’il te plait.”

I looked away, not answering but not refusing him. How could I refuse my lovely Enjolras from anything? The shirt fell from my arms, catching on my wrists, but he pulled it gently. His eyes looked to mine, and in them I saw the love I knew he felt for me. I swallowed nervously and he carefully turned me around.

There was silence. After a moment, his hand gently traced against the white scars on my shoulder. His fingers were gentle, taking care with each letter. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to say something.

Something cool touched my shoulder, and when I glanced over my shoulder I found he was kissing the scars. I looked back to the bed, my eyes falling to the scars on my wrists. I suddenly realised I had stopped for him. When I felt the burn of tears long forgotten, I closed my eyes tight. 

I stopped because he wanted me.

I stopped because he needed me.

I stopped because he loved me.

I didn’t mean to let the sound of my crying be heard, and he kissed my scars again before turning me around to face him. He held me tight in his arms, humming to me softly and assuring me everything would be okay. And I believed him. I never doubted him. I buried my face in his neck, letting the tears flow freely at this point. They did not stop for a long time.

Once I had finished, he kissed away the tears and helped me to put my shirt back on. Suddenly I felt very tired.

“Who did that to you?” he asked in a faint voice, pulling down the bed sheets.

I shook my head, refusing to tell.

“I will find out, whether or not you help me in doing so.”

“I will not tell.”

I didn’t want anything to go on, I just wanted to sleep. And he let me sleep. I passed out not long after this little outburst, and I slept for three days without once waking up.

***

The sun finally awoke me from my hibernation, and I wondered what had gone on during my absence. I sat up, yawning, and heard a piece of paper crinkle. Looking down, I noticed it was a note from Enjolras.

R -  
Gone out. Be back before you know it. Love you.  
\- E

My stomach growled, and I finally forced myself to get up. Upon glancing at the clock, I saw that it was nearly dinner time. There was time to shower and clean myself up a bit before going, though, so I hurried into the shower.

When I left the shower, I heard shuffling in the room and poked my head out of the bathroom. Enjolras was there, setting up his laptop. I smiled weakly, observing him. And then I noticed something, a bandage hidden under his shirt. I quickly put my clothes on and exited the bathroom, clearing my throat.

“Good, you’re awake. I have some pictures to show you,” he said.

My focus changed for a moment and I raised an eyebrow. “Pictures?” I asked.

“I spoke with your mère and she gave me the names of the boys that did that to you. I arranged a little something with them, we met up, and we had a little...disagreement.”

My jaw dropped. “I-I told you not to!” I squeaked.

He opened his laptop and there, open on the screen, were four pictures. At the bottom of each picture was a name, and in the center, on each one, was a scar similar to mine. Only the word stood out more, being covered in blood. Murderer. It did not take a genius to know that Enjolras had done this. He had inflicted the same injuries to my attackers. I covered my mouth to keep any sound from escaping.

He had done this for me.

“What’s that under your shirt?” I asked quietly.

“Under my—Oh! The bandages, yes.” He took off his shirt easily, and I found myself blushing. The bandage was only on his shoulder, and he turned around. “Go ahead and take off the bandage.”

I hesitated, before gingerly reaching out to peel the bandage off. This time, however, I choked out a sob at what I saw.

On his shoulder, in the same print and place as my own scar, was a tattoo. I would have expected it to say “hero” or something along those lines. To be honest, he truly deserved it. But instead, what I saw surprised me.

In red ink, looking just as my scar once looked, was the word “faggot.” And it was obvious he was proud of it.

I sank to the floor, shaking my head and crying. He joined me, smiling softly and holding me close in his arms. 

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I...Oh, Enjolras, I love you so much, but you shouldn’t have…”

He shook his head. “I needed to do it. I want you to know that you’re my biggest hero, and that I will always look up to you no matter what. You are more of a hero than I ever could be. You wear your mark proudly, and I wear mine because you are the man I never could be.”


	4. Chapitre Quatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready to go to Spain when trouble comes along, uh-oh!
> 
> Be warned: Major plot twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, guys! I went away for a few days and had no wifi access (our hotel was shit, okay?). BUT HERE IT IS. CHAPTER FOUR WITH A VERY LARGE PLOT TWIST.

Enjolras and I had decided on a date when we would take our relationship to the next level. Our one year anniversary was in the middle of our spring break, luckily enough. He would be accompanying my mère, her boyfriend and me on a trip to Spain. I would get to show him my room too, since he would be spending one night at my home.

Of course, even though I was more than comfortable with him, I was still nervous about my scars. But as I often saw him shirtless, saw that tattoo that mirrored the scar, I began to grow more and more comfortable wit myself. He had gotten that tattoo because of me, for me. Because of him, my greatest downfall would be my greatest uprising.

“Mon dieu, I’m nervous,” Enjolras said, glancing at me. I smiled at him and he put his arm around my waist. “Never thought I’d be meeting the parents.”

“Parent and her boyfriend,” I corrected halfheartedly. I kissed his jaw, turning to glance around for my mère. “You should not worry, she liked you for that brief moment when you and I first met.”

He nodded. “Yes, and since you and I have met your hair has grown longer. She’ll think me to be a punk!”

I laughed, kissing his cheek. “No she won’t, she’ll love you. I know she will, I promise.”

My eyes scanned the crowed that bustled around the airport. There were several women there that somewhat resembled my mère, having curly brown hair and pale skin. There was one woman, though, and she was blond and was obviously pregnant; she looked exactly like Maman except for these two features.

The blonde looked to me, her face lighting up suddenly and she waved, waddling over to Enjolras and me. “Grantaire, chéri!” she called, and once she made it over to us she pulled me into her embrace. She had changed drastically in the few months since we had been apart, but I was glad to be back in her arms. 

My mère’s arms brought me such comfort, and at first I wondered if anything would compare to hers. But then I realised, as much as they did, Enjolras’s arms were the best. I glanced to him, clearing my throat. 

“Maman, this is Enjolras,” I said, reintroducing my boyfriend and my mother. “Enjolras, mon ange, this is my mère.”

“Call me Evangeline,” she asked with a smile.

Enjolras bowed his head, but then Maman hugged him; I imagined this was the best hug in the world. Maman kissed both of his cheeks, doing the same to mine.

I motioned to her baby bump. “Maman, you did not tell me!”

She blushed a little, smiling. “Claude and I are engaged to marry now!”

I laughed, beaming. “Maman, c’est magnifique!” I looked to Enjolras, and he smiled before stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. 

“Congratulations, Madame,” he said.

“Come, you two. Claude is outside waiting.” She took the bag from Enjolras’s hand, and he voiced his protests; she ignored him and walked on. 

I turned around in Enjolras’s arms, putting my arms around his neck and kissing him softly. He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the tip of my nose. Excited couldn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Around him, I was as happy as a clam. As far as I was concerned, I was unbreakable and invulnerable when I was with him.

***

“Oi! Grantaire!”

At first, I expected it to be someone friendly towards me. I was excited to tell whoever it was about Enjolras and how happy I had recently become, to explain that nothing was better and how nothing could make me sad again.

But when I turned I found it was not as I hoped. The boys that had destroyed me, that had led me to become suicidal (which I no longer was thanks to Enjolras) were all standing there. Jean-Luc had grown a beard, which was often a sign saying that he had hit manhood. (If that is the case, I hit manhood before him because I had started shaving when I was fourteen.) In fact, three of the four had facial hair. And they had all grown, their shirts and pants too tight for the extra muscle weight.

Jean-Luc walked down the driveway, and by pure instinct I stepped back. My back touched the rear end of Claude’s car, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew at this point packing the car was coming to a pause.

“I thought I had rid my life of you,” I said quickly. My hands clenched into a fist, but I wasn’t sure it would be effective if I should chose to defend myself. Silently, I was happy that Enjolras was inside; but at the same time, I thought I would need him.

“You’re never getting rid of us,” Yves purred, stepping forward.

I cleared my throat. “That’s not true,” I retorted. “I’ve got a new life started and everything, I’ve made it by and I got rid of you.”

“A new life?” Michel snorted. “Please. How did you start a new life?”

“I have a boyfriend now,” I said, speaking as though Enjolras and I had only just started dating. “I’ve got friends who except me for who I am, who like me. I haven’t done a thing to myself since I left.”

Jean-Luc scowled. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” His hand launched forward, but instead of him hitting me he grabbed the front of my shirt. I blinked in surprise. “You were supposed to get bullied at your new school, you faggot! You were supposed to go over the edge when everyone treated you like shit, you weren’t supposed to come back alive!”

Suddenly a fist came out of nowhere and struck him in the jaw, hard. My eyes widened as his grasp on me loosened, and he glared at me angrily. I shook my head, thinking it hadn’t been me. But there was a small scrape across my knuckles that hadn’t been there before.

I had hit him.

“You little shit!” he hissed, pouncing on me.

His hand hit my jaw, as though returning the hit. I growled, and in response I hit him again. He looked utterly surprised, seeing as I had fought back for the first time in my life. And once I had shown what I was made of, I felt confidence in myself. All the same, I did not want to hit him unless he hit me first. I was not a violent person.

The front door of my mère’s small house opened and I saw Enjolras stand in the doorway as another punch was now delivered to my gut, knocking me back against the car for the second time. I hit Jean-Luc back, huffing as Enjolras ran over, an arm going around me once he was beside me.

“What is going on here?” he demanded, glaring bullets through Jean-Luc.

My attacker blinked, taking a step back. “H-Hey, we didn’t mean any trouble…”

“You obviously did,” Enjolras said, shifting his weight onto one leg. “I mean, you were just trying to beat up my man.”

Jean-Luc shook his head, and Léonard stepped forward. “Your man is a piece of crap!” he snapped.

In one swift motion, Enjolras hit the boy’s jaw as hard as he could and I buried my face in his neck. His grip on me tightened.   “You should remember me, kid. You’re the piece of crap, not Grantaire.” He let go of me, and suddenly he had knocked Léonard to the ground. He looked to the other three, and Michel cleared his throat before he and Yves ran as fast as they could to get away.

Jean-Luc bent over and picked up Léonard, and the latter’s shirt slipped down off his shoulder. I covered my mouth as I gasped, taking a step back.

‘Murderer’ was carved (obviously by a knife) in Léonard’s shoulder. I swallowed nervously, then leaned back as the two bullies walked off. Enjolras’s back to me, he was breathing heavily and his fists were clenched. It did not take a genius to see that he had done that to the boys that had ruined my childhood. 

“Enjolras?” I asked quietly.

He ducked his head and I stepped forward, touching his shoulder. He sheepishly turned his head, looking to me. There was visible fear in his eyes, visible pain and anger. I was more than a little surprised when he threw his arms around my neck and held onto me tightly. 

I patted his back, and together we sank to the ground. I didn’t understand what was going on, and I tried to think it through. But I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard him sob.

What was going on?

Enjolras was strong. Stronger than strong, even. He was emotionally stable, always had been. His mother was a sweet lady, I had met her because she worked at the school. He was spoiled beyond belief, he had no worries. But he was crying. I looked down at him. “Enjolras, guerrier,” I whispered, “what’s wrong?”

“I did that to them, the scars,” he sniffed. “I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t...What they did to you…” His fingers clenched. “They deserved it!”

Despite showing weakness, he was still full of that passionate fire I had come to know and love. Once he found a worthy cause, he was devoted it until the end, no questions asked. And I was a worthy cause to him. He had told me before that I was worth everything in the world, in his world.

“It...It gave me another bullet...I’m sure of it, there’s only some time left…”

A bullet?

“A bullet? Guerrier, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head, pulling back. Tears stained that gorgeous face of his, and I could not help myself and kissed those blasted tears away. 

“I-I can’t tell you, you’ll find out soon enough…”

It worried me, to hear the fear in his voice. Enjolras was scared, so I had to be brave. For him. I knew I never wanted to find out what a ‘bullet’ referred to, I was almost sure of it. But I had to if I wanted to return the favour and protect him. I wanted more than anything to keep him safe as he had done to me.

“Boys!” Maman called. “Où êtes-vous?”

I turned my head. “We’re outside, Maman! The packing is done!”

“Come inside, you’ll catch cold! We leave in dix minutes!”

I looked at Enjolras. “Guerrier, stay strong. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He looked to me, then nodded and leant up to kiss me. “Chéri, je t’adore.” He kissed me again.

Nodding, I pulled him to his feet and let him lean against me. When he wasn’t strong, I had to be. For once, I was going to be his person to lean on, not the other way around. This was for him.

He sniffed the air, and then stood up straight. “Do I smell beer?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Go figure he would notice now.

“No, of course not,” I said, a little too quickly.

“Chéri,” he started.

“I haven’t been drinking!” 

He exhaled slowly and rocked back onto his heels. “I didn’t suggest that you were drinking,” he said in a quiet voice.

Way to go, me. He found out from my basic stupidity, my simplicity. I let the cat out of the bag and I just hoped he wouldn’t tell Maman.

“You...You drink?”

I nodded, shyly at first. He pursed his lips, nodding in return. Silence devoured us rapidly, and for the first time in a long time it was not the most comforting silence. This one was tense and a bit awkward. I was the awkward one; he was the one full of tension.

“How long has it been?” he asked. “Since you started?”

I paused before answering. “Two years.”

He nodded again. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“You’ve been an alcoholic for two years.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“I-I never said—”

“But you have been.”

Finding myself in defeat, I nodded. He avoided my eye, and I took note of the contemplative fire that was often there. But this flame within him was burning brighter, larger than before; and it was obvious that he was full of anger and, what seemed to be, hurt.

“You should have said something.”

“You should have told me about this bullet thing too. But you won’t let a word out.”

He glared at me. “I can’t tell you because I’m forbidden.”

I returned his look, unable to feel a bit pained. “Well maybe I didn’t tell you because you worry about me enough as it is.”

His worrying bothered me more than my mère’s worrying. It was more natural from her, after all these years. With him, it was still alien to me; I was not accustomed to people outside of my family worrying for me. And then I realised: He is my family. Nobody was closer to me than Enjolras was. He had every right to worry. He was worried because I was getting hurt, whether the source of my pain was physical, emotional, or mental, and whether it was because of an outsider or within me. He was going to worry about me as long as we were together, and even beyond then. 

He was going to worry about me for eternity.

“I wish I could help,” he said, voice faint.

I shook my head. “You don’t need to. It’s just going to kill me one day anyways, my alcoholism.”

“I’ll give you my fucking liver if I have to, I’m not losing you.”

“Enjolras—”

“Not in a million years. I’m not ready to lose you, I don’t think I ever will be. As much as I despise Rick Astley, I agree with that bloody song of his. ‘I’m never gonna give you up.’ I love you more than life itself, Grantaire. God, I-I’ve never felt this way for anyone in the world! I met you, and everything changed. I’ve known for the past two months that one day I’m going to marry you. You and I are going to adopt kids, take in a dog and a cat and a hedgehog. We’re going to get jobs and enjoy each other’s company. We’re going to be the happiest people on earth, no matter what! We’re going to watch our kids grow up and go off to college. We’re going to depend on each other for a million years. I’m going to grow old with you by my side, and I’m going to die with you by my side. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need you more than I ever thought I did.

“I’m going to make sure you don’t die. I will give up everything in a second for you. If you need a liver? Take my liver. You need a kidney? Take a kidney! If you go blind, please! take my eyes. I’d lay down my life for you. If we were both to be tested against each other, and one of us was to be killed, I would make sure you never saw my demise and ensure your happiness as much as I can. You are the most a-amazing guy! Hell, I’ve never stuttered before, but when I’m around you...I can’t seem to stop!

“I don’t get nervous often, you know that. I bet you didn’t even know that I rhyme when I’m nervous. But one day, when something happens to you, I’ll be talking like a madman and rhyming everything I say. And one day, that day you and I are up there on an altar exchanging our vows? I’m going to be fucking Shakespeare up there, rhyming as if my life depended on it.” 

There was a long pause.

“Marry me.”


	5. Chapitre Cinq

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's leaving for Spain? Ehehe. (Also, this is the first chapter with porn! Rated M for this reason, guys.) So be warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole “same sex marriage” thing is not yet legal in France, but it will be soon. It is in the process of being legalised, so I just went ahead and made it legal.

Did those words really leave his mouth? No. Yes. I had no idea what to say, how to react. I was almost eighteen, I was still too young to get married. Unless, of course, Maman gave her consent. Don’t get me wrong, I was madly in love with Enjolras. But were we really ready for this? For marriage? And if I was to marry him, I was to move out of my home and into a home where he and I would live. Unless, of course, he wanted to live with my mére and her new fiancé. 

I looked to him, one hand grasped around my wrist. I wondered how long I had kept him waiting for my answer. I swallowed.

“I-I….”

He held up a finger, reaching into his pocket. “I have a ring,” he said, getting down on one knee. One hand raised up, revealing to me a red velvet box. A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t speak — even giving him my answer seemed to be an effort. The box was opened to reveal a beautiful ring, with black gold with some white cold squares on it.

“Nicholas Grantaire,” Enjolras said, a gentle, loving smile on his face, “will you marry me?”

I covered my mouth with my hand, still finding it impossible to speak. I just nodded, a tear falling from my eyes. After a moment, I found my words. “Y-Yes…Yes, I-I’ll marry you…” As it were, my dialogue was muffled by my hands, still blocking my mouth.

He stood slowly, reaching for my hand. His fingers were warm, but then again I was so accustomed to holding something cold. His cool lips touched my knuckles, my palm, the scars on my wrist. And finally, he took the ring out of the little box and held it up to me.

“It’s engraved too,” he whispered.

I gingerly took the ring, looking at it closely. Sure enough, on the underside of the ring, was a small engraving. ‘FREEDOMSEEKER and ABARRICADEBUILDER.’ Our Tumblr URLs. How we met. After a moment, he held out his hand again.

“May I put it on you?” he asked.

I nodded. He took the ring in one hand, my other hand in his other. My heart was beating rapidly as he slipped the small band on my ring finger. A couple more tears escaped my eyes, and I had trouble finding more words. But after a moment I threw myself in his arms, burying my face in his neck. I held tightly onto him, smiling like an idiot.

“I should check with Maman first, to make sure that this is okay with her—”

“I already got her permission,” he chuckled, his arms tight around my waist. “She gave us her blessing.”

I looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? She did?” That made my heart swell, maybe even do a jump for joy. She gave us her blessing! Nothing could be better.

And suddenly I needed him. Now that we were engaged, I wanted him more than I ever had. I tugged on his hand, leading him back towards the house just as Maman and Claude were exiting. I beamed up at her, and she raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“So he proposed, chéri?” she asked, chuckling. “You’re staying with Monsieur France?”

Of course she had taken to calling him Monsieur France — I mean, he was so passionate about France and demonstrated it enough during the past two meals that she had given him a nickname. It was her sign of affection, nevertheless. I hugged her and nodded, then tore away and pushed Enjolras inside. Claude looked at me.

“We are about to go to the airport, where are you going?” he asked.

I looked at him as Enjolras slipped his arms around my waist, chest pressed up against my back. Claude raised an eyebrow, and Maman shoved a bag at him as though to send him to finish putting things in the car. 

“Grantaire, we have to go to Spain.”

I glanced back at Enjolras before looking to her. “Frankly, Maman, fuck Spain. I’m about to be fucked by France!”

Her face turned bright red, and behind me Enjolras’s chest shook with silent laughter. She glanced from my face to the ground, and she turned her back to us.

“Too much information, I really didn’t need to know that. Use a condom, be safe, boys.” She quickly hurried to the car, and I noticed her face was still red. 

Enjolras and I waited in the doorway, his arms still around my waist and his chin now resting on my shoulder. The car pulled out, and we waved goodbye. But once the car was out of sight, he pushed his hips forward to grind against me, and an arm darted out to grab the doorframe as I gasped. I closed my eyes as he repeated the motion with more pressure.

“E-Enjolras….”

“Let’s move this to the bedroom, okay?”

His tone turned me on, and I pushed back against him. There was no denying the erection he had, and it sent chills down my spine. He closed the door, and I turned around to find him already kissing me. I put one arm around his neck, the other gently pressing it against his chest. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed against my lips, hand sliding under my shirt. “Let me be the your fulfiller of dreams.”

There was one fantasy I had always had; I explained it briefly and we both quickly set to work. In a short amount of time, we had built a huge-ass fort. We had taken the mattress from my room and put it on the living room floor after moving the table and the couch. Chairs and the couch acted as the supports for extra sheets we had to act as a canopy, and pillows surrounded the edges of the mattress, like a barrier. There were a few blankets in case we wanted them, but he assured me I wouldn’t be cold — I’d be warm as ever. We curled up in the fort, his hands on my waist.

“I didn’t think we’d be doing anything, so I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted. 

I shook my head and kissed him. “I don’t care. You said it yourself about a month ago, we don’t need a condom.” 

He nodded, returning my kiss. As he had before we had set to working on the fort, his hands rubbed against my sides and slipped under my shirt. I relished the warm feeling of his touch, and kissed him deeply. After a moment, he lifted the base of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. I did the same to him, and I swallowed nervously. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he mumbled. “It’s just me.”

I nuzzled his jaw and groaned suddenly when I felt his hips against mine. I grasped his shoulders, and accidentally dug my fingers in. He kissed me fiercely, his hand sliding down to my waist. Each caress brought me closer, wanting to indulge more in him. I shifted a little as he pulled my trousers off, and I quickly moved to do the same.

He put a leg on either side of me, straddling me. Leaning forward, he kissed me again quickly. My mind began racing. Would he be easy with me? Or would he go a little rough? I assumed he would go easy, what with it being my first time. And he was already catering to my needs, considering he created this fort because I wanted my first time to be in a fort.

Childish, I know. Do not mock me.

“Grantaire, I must warn you. It can be painful the first time.”

I nodded my understanding. “I’ve heard.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

I blushed a little. “Tumblr…”

He snorted, kissing me again, this time grabbing the bulge in my boxers. My breath hitched and I closed my eyes. His hand hadn’t even directly groped me, but all the same it felt good to be touched. He moved his lips down to my neck, nibbling here and there until he finally bit with a little more pressure - and then he sucked a hickey onto my neck. I groaned, unable to suppress it.

His lips went lower once they had marked me, kissing my chest now. My fingers clutched at the sheets below us as I felt him going lower, the gentle caresses now moving from my stomach to just below my navel. He nuzzled my skin there, and I looked down at him. 

“Your face is bright red,” he teased gently as he pulled my undergarments down. And if I had been blushing before, I was blushing more than before as I became exposed to him. I heard him hum what I thought was his approval. 

“You’ve been hiding this gorgeous piece of yours from me, haven’t you? Wanted to keep it to yourself. I see how it is, you selfish brat.”

I squirmed, chuckling. Leave it to him to try and ease my nerves with a little joke by that. He smiled at me. 

“I love you.”

“Enjolras, I love you too.”

And it seemed that was all I needed to say. He took me in his mouth and I tensed, fingers clenching the sheets tighter. It was so warm, so wet, so...perfect. He took me deeper, and I began to question the existence of his gag reflex; but he did stop, and I realised his gag reflex was nonexistent because I felt the back of his throat. He placed his hands on my hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. 

His tongue moved around a bit before he swallowed and I groaned louder than planned, writhing under him. A feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach - but it was a good feeling. With a pop! he pulled off and leaned up again to kiss me, his hand stroking me again.

“E-Enjolras,” I groaned, pleaded, “guerrier, I need you…”

He smirked. I noticed how aroused he was, and I tugged down his briefs. The sight before me was so beautiful, and in that moment I knew he must have been a reincarnation of Apollo. I would no longer be calling him my warrior, but rather, my Apollo.

His fingers touched my lips. “Suchez,” he whispered. I nodded, obeying without question, and took his digits into my mouth. They tasted so good! My tongue moved around, making sure to cover every surface - his knuckles, the underside of his fingers, and even between his fingers. I wanted to be sure I didn’t miss a spot. When he pulled his fingers back, I whined at the loss. But soon the feeling of emptiness was taken away, as he had pushed a finger inside me.

It was unusual, but I wanted more quickly. The initial pain wasn’t as bad as I had thought (I expected more because of how “excruciating” the pain was in the fanfictions I read). It was a little...stimulating. I wriggled a bit and he added a second finger, and the moment I began to squirm under the attention he scissored his fingers. 

“Enjolras, I beg of you,” I gasped, “fuck me, fuck me now…”

He moved his fingers a few more times, stretching me, before pulling them back. He kissed me again, my arms going around his neck. 

“You will tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathed. “I do not want you hurting.”

I nodded. “But you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t.”

He kissed me again, gently parting my legs. He seemed to be talking to himself, maybe uttering some reassurances to himself. I knew him well, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me; and even if he did, it was more likely he would not have done it on purpose. With our lips still locked in a passionate kiss, he pushed his hips forward.

The sensation I felt was amazing. My grip on him tightened and I kissed him fervently, moving my legs around his waist. His hips moved gently at first, picking up speed a little and adding a little more force. He wrapped his fingers around my mandhood, stroking me again. I threw my head back, closing my eyes as I found myself panting.

“So tight, Grantaire,” he murmured. He nipped at my jaw. “I’m so glad I could be the one to…” He kissed the mark. “…to penetrate your barricade.”

The sound I made was no ordinary sex sound, even surprising me. He made another odd sound, but it sounded a little more normal and more human than my own. His hips pushed forth in a strong thrust, causing a cry I had been suppressing to escape. I moved my own hips to meet his, and he gasped.

This went on for a long time. To have him inside me at long last…It is a bliss I can remember, even to this day. Even as my memory fails me, I will never forget the day Enjolras, my Apollo, “penetrated my barricade” for the first time.

After a long time, that feeling that had been in my stomach began to pulse. I clutched on to him tighter, whimpering. 

“Mon Apollo,” I murmured, “I…”

He kissed me tenderly. “It’s okay, Grantaire. Me too.” His hips thrust again. “Come on, love. Come for me.”

I couldn’t resist, there was no way I could. I felt myself release, my orgasm causing my entire body to tremble violently. I fell limp in his arms, still holding onto him. After a moment or so, his own orgasm hit him. He groaned. 

That feeling made my entire body buzz with delight. This was it. It was better than I expected. He pulled back from me, and I curled up beside him, still holding tight. He was mine, and I was his.

“Grantaire, mon ange,” he murmured, kissing my temple, “c’est magnifique.”

I buried my face in his neck. “Je t’adore, mon Apollo,” I breathed. “Enjolras, promets-moi de ne jamais me laisser aller.”*

He pulled me tighter. “I won’t. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"I adore you, my Apollo. Enjolras, promise me you will never let me go."


	6. Chapitre Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, more angst! Courfeyrac comes in this chapter, though, and has fun hitting on Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

That little vacation we had ended quickly, and soon we were back at school. I was happy to be amongst my friends again, and Enjolras seemed just as happy. We spent less time together and more time with friends, but we often went out. Some time was spent on double dates with Marius and Cosette, and some time was even spent pranking the head of school, Javert. It was fun.

And I was apparently Marius’s gay best friend.

I don’t exactly know how it happened, but we were suddenly going out on weekends. Whether it be shopping or just going for a coffee, we spent a lot of time together. I found myself making jokes about it on tumblr, calling him my “white girl” friend.

One weekend we spent the morning at the local department store. There was a party coming up and he wanted to look nice, and employed my help with picking out an outfit. I cursed being in love with the latest fashions, and the fact that I was an artist made him want to know “what his colour was.” I loved it and hated it.

It was evening, nearly time for dinner. There was a loud ruckus coming from the area near our dorm. Exchanging very brief glances, we hurried towards the dorm to see what all the commotion was.

I dropped my bags when I saw what was going on. There was a huge pile of furniture piled in front of the dorm’s front entrance, and on top was Enjolras. He held his most prized possession above his head, a flag as red as blood. I barely heard his shouts of revolution, I was so mortified. People cheered him on, laughing and shouting his name. Monsieur Valjean and Monsieur Javert put aside their usual arguing to coax him down from this makeshift barricade.

Before I knew it I was stumbling up the side of the creation, reaching for his hand. I’ll never forget how happy he looked up there, spreading the word. I knew from that moment on he would never love me the way he loved the Patria, but I didn’t care. I had to get to him, to make sure he was safe. 

Then there was a shot. Everything suddenly moved so slowly, like a slow motion scene in a film. His fingers were barely out of reach when it happened. My heart stopped and my eyes widened.

Something hit his chest….

His eyes closed; he fell back….

I screamed, scrambling to get to him….

Arms grabbed me as I cried, tears already streaming down my face….

The flag hit the ground, a hole pierced through the heart of it….

Blood poured from an open wound on his body….

“Enjolras!” I yelled, struggling against whoever held me. By this time my tears had blinded me and I could hardly see a thing. “Enjolras!”

Sirens could be heard in the distance as Valjean hurried to my fiancée’s side. I continued to squirm, but whoever held me back was much stronger. The look on Valjean’s face told me it was too late, that my beloved was gone.

I finally threw back my elbow, hitting the man who held me back. I stumbled on a chair, heart beating rapidly in my chest. “No, no, no, I can’t lose him, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t….”

A puddle of blood had already formed, and my hands began to tremble. I wasn’t ready for this, I wasn’t ready to see him dead. He was seventeen, he was too young to die. I fell beside him, the blood splashing under my knees. I picked him up in my arms, shaking my head. 

“Enjolras, my Apollo, please…Please don’t leave me…”

He stirred slightly in my arms, a little bit of blood spilling from between his lips. His lips turned upwards in a smile, weak as it was.

“I-I’m not going…going anywhere my Di-Dionysus…” A hand reached up to touch my cheek, and I leaned down to kiss him, blood covering my lips now. I didn’t care. My fingers clutched onto him tightly. 

“Stay with me,” I murmured. “Please, Apollo…”

His hand fell from my face, once again falling in slow motion. It seemed as though my hearing grew stronger as well, because I swore I heard his hand hit the ground. My heart sank. “No...No!” 

“Move it, kid,” said one of the now approaching EMTs. “Get outta our way.”

I was reluctant to leave Enjolras’s side. I couldn’t bring myself to let go. Finally Valjean pulled me away, and I shivered in his arms. My heart was aching, I couldn’t stand this. They carried Enjolras to the ambulance, and I shook my head quickly and pulled from my teacher’s arms. I ran to the dorm, grabbing my car keys and two unopened bottles of wine. Once I was in the safety of my car, I clawed at one of the bottles until the cork came out and I took a long, much needed drink.

I had to be by his side. I needed to know if he was alive or not. At my rate, though, and the amount of wine I was drinking along the way got me thinking. Maybe I wouldn’t even make it to the hospital; maybe I would crash. I would either find Enjolras in heaven - or likely hell - or be alone and find he had in fact lived. 

As it was, I made it to the hospital alive but had finished the first bottle. I cracked open the second, starting it almost immediately. Within a period of fifteen minutes, the bottle was empty and on the floor of my car. Stumbling, not caring how drunk I seemed, I made my way into the hospital.

“Edward Enjolras,” I asked the receptionist. “Where is he?”

She didn’t say anything about my being drunk, but gave me an odd look. “Visiting hours are over. Family only.”

“I am his family,” I said. “He and I are engaged.”

Regarding me with a skeptical eye, she pointed to the elevator. “Second floor, room 4601.”

I nodded, hurrying to the elevator. I pressed the button, and once it arrived on the correct floor I hurried out. I got a nervous feeling again. Looking around, I finally found the correct room, but the door was closed. What if there was a blanket over his body? That would mean he was dead.

I pushed open the door all the same, and was relieved to see that he was in the bed and not under the sheets. He was scowling, shouting obscenities at the television. I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame because I was watching him and felt sick. There was another person in the room, on the other side, and he sent him glares until he finally threw a pillow at Enjolras. He made a surprised sound, tossing the pillow right back.

I was getting married to a child.

The other man said something in French — more obscenities — before pointing out that Enjolras had a visitor. He turned to look at me, then smiled. 

“Hey!”

“You twat, I was worried sick about you.”

“Why? I told you the other day, I’m never leaving you. Come here, I’m lonely.”

“You have a roommate.”

“You mean Courf? Nah, he’s a dick, it’s okay.”  
The man threw the pillow at Enjolras and he caught it.

“You’ve known him for five minutes and you call him a dick?”

He snorted. “We were kids together, it’s okay.”

I raised an eyebrow as I crossed over to the bed, taking his hand in mine. I glanced at this Courf fellow. Not too bad looking, but I was taken. He looked to me, then beamed. 

“Qui êtes-vous et que je peux vous prendre au lit avec moi?” he asked, grinning.

Enjolras answered him by throwing the pillow at him, hitting him in the face. “Va te faire foutre, Courfeyrac, il est à moi.”

“No need to start a war over me—”

Courfeyrac interrupted again. “Je ne vois pas un signe de lui qu'il est le vôtre.”

“Il porte ma bague, vous chauve-souris aveugle. N'avez-vous pas remarqué?” He took my arm and held up my hand. “Il est pris, Courfeyrac. Cesser de flirter avec mon futur mari, parce que vous allez le regretter.” He turned to me. “You better not hook up with him, I won’t be happy.”

I laughed, but then stopped when I saw him wrinkle his nose. He leaned over, tugging me down so his face was close to mine, and sniffed me. He pushed me away.

“Come back when you’re sober.”

I blinked. “Enjolras, what the hell—”

“Get out, I want you sober.”

I didn’t move, and he sat up and put his legs on the side of the bed, looking as though he was about to get up. I made a surprised sound, reaching out to hold him back. But despite this, he stood up. For an instant, I swear to God, I saw a flash of pure anger in his eyes. His eyes locked with mine, and suddenly I felt really small. He was a good four or so inches taller than mine, so you can imagine why I was afraid. He took another step closer, I swallowed nervously. He was no more than an inch away from me.

“Get out and sober up,” he said in a low voice. 

I cleared out my throat. “No,” I said defiantly.

It barely registered as it happened. My breath had hitched and I had taken a step back because of the force. My cheek stung like a bitch. I said nothing more on the matter, pushing him away and running out of the room. I heard him call after me, but in the middle of shouting my name he stopped. I only turned when I had made it to the elevator and pressed the button. He was on his knees, face contorted in pain, and a nurse and Courfeyrac were at his side. I hurried into the elevator and closed the door, clutching onto myself and sobbing.


	7. Chapitre Sept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little encounter with some old foes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE ANGST

Despite being curled up on my bed in my bedroom, away from the school and back home with Maman and Claude, I didn’t feel at home. I missed Enjolras. I regretted running. What would he think of me after this? Would he still love me, or would he assume that I had called off our engagement?

Maman said nothing on the matter, but cared for me as she had before. She kept referring to Enjolras as my fiancée, which made me feel better. She scolded me for drinking, but said nothing more. I was pleased.

I listened to the gentle tunes of my favourite band The Killers, fiddling with my engagement ring. It was still my most prized possession, but now I was scared I would never get to marry Enjolras.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I turned off my music. Maman poked her head in, smiling softly. 

“Chéri,” she said quietly, “could I please tell you something?”

I sat up slowly, putting the ring back on my finger. I wasn’t ready to face the music if Enjolras wanted me out. She sat beside me, her arm going around me.

“It’s time I tell you the truth about…your father.”

I blinked, looking to her in surprise. “My father?”

She nodded.

My mind automatically turned on to him. I had a photo of him, one from before I was born. My père had died when my mère was pregnant with me. Alcohol had killed him — he had been an alcoholic, just as I was, but he had died due to internal bleeding. I knew very little about him because I had never met him, but Maman told me I had inherited his pale skin and curly hair.

“What about him?”

“Nicholas, chéri, you know I love you. And you know I want what’s best for you. But…The man I told you was your father…He was just a picture of a man I found in a magazine.”

My eyes widened. “Then…Then who was my father?”

“Chéri—”

“Stop calling me that, just tell me!”

She hesitated before explaining to me. Her voice remained soft, almost afraid, as she spoke. Maman had been a young, young lady when she met my father for the first time — she was eighteen, he was twenty-three. It was a brief meeting, but they had shared a moment. A few years passed and they unknowingly met again. Getting by was tough, and she had ignored university; she had no choice but to turn to prostitution, only because she was broke and had no other way of getting money. My père had brought her home, they slept together, and that was that. 

She didn’t expect to get pregnant, I was nothing but a mistake. Initially I was to be aborted. Then I was to be out up for adoption. But my père sent her money, expecting her to be pregnant. It was enough to buy a home, to get baby supplies to take care of me, and enough money to feed us for a few years. According to Maman, he still sent child support. His name was Jacques, and he had picked out my name. 

This was all devastating to me. How was I supposed to react? Another disappointment in my life, the second in a few days. I shook my head, standing up and turning towards the door.

“Nicholas, where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.” I opened the door and stormed out, down the stairs, and out of the house. I didn’t have a particular place in mind, I just wanted to walk around. I needed a break. My hands stayed in my pockets, my fingers brushing over the razor blade I kept in my pocket. That urge that I hadn’t felt in a long time came back. I suddenly felt the urge to cut again. I glanced around, then ducked down another road.

It had been a long time since I had been exploring the neighbourhood I grew up in, and I was still slightly terrified of this street. This is where the criminals of the area lived, the bullies. I found an alleyway, empty as one of my bottles, and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath as I withdrew the razor blade. 

It started as an inner debate. Do I do it? Do I toss the razor into that trash can nearby? I hated inner conflict, I really did. Stressed me out more than I imagined.

A few minutes passed, and suddenly I heard laughing. Laughing. I dropped the bloodied blade to the ground, turning to see my former torturers. Jean-Luc, Yves, and Michel. I straightened my back despite the stinging on my wrists, the blood wiping across my pants. 

“Where’s Léonard?” I grumbled.

“Hospital, getting those scars removed.” Jean-Luc smirked, moving closer to me. I stood my ground. “Didn’t think you’d see us again, did you?”

“Frankly, no, I didn’t.”

 

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours, huh?”

“He’s back at the school.”

“Ah, then there’s no one to protect you when I do this.”

He hit me, hard. I coughed and curled up a little, but I was ready for the next hit. I blocked him, crossing my arms in an ‘X’ in front of my body as a shield. When they saw me fight back, Yves and Michel came to aid him. In a short time, I was sporting various cuts and bruises in addition to the cuts on my wrists. I couldn’t stand, it was too painful.

“How do you like that?” Jean-Luc cackled. He bent down so he was level with me. I noticed his arm was by his pocket. I looked away, but he grabbed my chin and made me look at him. His eyes were full of fiery hate, and a coldness I had never noticed before. “Without your little boyfriend, you can’t do anything. You can’t fight.” There was a gleam of light and I noticed what was in his hand. It looked to be a knife. “What if I re-carved that lovely mark on your back, hm?”

“Jean-Luc, we got something better,” Michel offered.

Both of us looked to him. In his hand was a shining metal baseball bat. I did what I could to scramble back, shaking my head frantically. “No, no, please don’t…”

Jean-Luc took the bat, looking it over. “I forgot, your dad brought this back for you from his trip to America…” He smirked, looking to me. He swung it once, then whistled. “Feels nice.” 

Without warning he bashed me on the shoulder with it, and I cried out in pain and hit the ground. Again, he hit me, this time on the side. Without a doubt, a rib had cracked. Maybe two. I winced in pain, biting my lip to the point where my mouth began to taste like metal. I clutched onto the wall, trying to lift myself up. But he struck me down again, this time the bat hitting my knee. This was the worst of the pain, and that combined with the pain of the razor digging into my scalp. I cursed myself for dropping it to the ground, for even bringing it and using it. My shaking hand tossed it aside, and one final blow was delivered to my other side. Another broken rib or two. I coughed up blood, all feeling lost in my knee now. 

It seemed to me, however, that Yves had had enough. He ran out of the alley, and there was no doubt the sound I heard shortly after was the sound of him vomiting. It seemed to be enough for Michel too, because he was gone in seconds flat. It was just me and Jean-Luc now. And even with a broken knee and two to five broken ribs, this was the final showdown.

“I should kill you right now, while I have the chance,” he said, tossing the bat aside to sit me up. I hissed in pain, but for once my tears did not betray me. I cried no tears because I no longer had any tears to shed. I swallowed, looking up at him.

“I will die with honour,” I said, finding that Enjolras had rubbed off on me to a strong degree. I offered my best smile, which was weak but still proud all the same. “Vive les persécutés!”

The cold metal of the bat gently brushed the side of my head. He pulled it back, getting ready to hit my head. I closed my eyes and waited for it to come.

“O-Over there, officer!”

The bat never came.

I turned my head and saw Yves and Michel standing with an officer. I glanced at Jean-Luc. He dropped the bat and made a run for it. The two boys ran after him as the cop hurried to my side.

“An ambulance is on it’s way, son. You’re going to be okay.”

I nodded, glancing over at the three boys. In the distance, I heard the ambulance’s siren. Enjolras was the first person that came to mind, and I moved to stand, forgetting all about my leg. I grunted, wincing, and the cop pushed me back.  
 “What’s wrong, sun?”

“My fiancée, I...I have to let him know where I am. My phone’s at home…”

“Do you know his number?”

I nodded. He pulled out his own phone, pushing it into my hand. Frantically, hands trembling, I dialed his number and called it.

“Bonjour, c'est Edward Enjolras. Qui suis-je parler avec et comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?”

“Enjolras, my Apollo,” I breathed.

His tone suddenly became worried, frantic. “Grantaire, you idiot, where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick, nobody has seen you since you left the hospital the other day, where are you? Are you all right? What happened to your phone? Whose phone are you using? God, I miss you. I’m so sorry for hitting you, it was so stupid of me to but you weren’t listening and I-I just don’t think I’m ready to give you up, I don’t think I ever will be…”

“Shut up,” I said, unable to help the fond smile that touched my lips. “I-I think I’m fine, I have to go to the hospital—”

“Then you aren’t fine! Where are you? Let me come to you, I want to be with you.”

“Back home with Maman.”

It was quiet for a moment, then he hummed. “I’ll be there tonight. Don’t worry.”

There was a long pause, and he said in a soft, small, and frightened voice, “I love you.”

I felt myself getting weaker, and I knew there was little time before I fainted. I had to let him know, though. “I love you too, Apollo. I…I love you more. I have to go for now, the ambulance is here. Call my mère for me, please…”

He hummed again. “I will. I will. Stay safe, my Dionysus. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS I PROMISE THAT CHAPTER 8 WILL BE HAPPY
> 
> I feel really bad about all I've put you guys through, so I have a few happy chapters planned out now. :)


	8. Chapitre Huit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras/Grantaire reunion time! Also some samples of my poetry (*cough* I mean Enjolras's poetry *coughcough*)

Beep…beep…beep….

I think the sound of the heart monitor was what woke me up. My body ached, and at the time I barely recalled what had happened. I opened my eyes, but quickly shut them because they still had to adjust to the light. But there was a soft and distant click that drew my attention to my right, and I reopened my eyes. The door was closing, the lights were off. By my side, holding my hand, was Enjolras. His head was bowed over my hand, his eyes squeezed shut. There was no mistaking the tears that had fallen from my fiancée’s eyes - his face was red and puffy, and he sounded congested.

“Please,” he begged in a whisper, “please don’t take him away from me…”

Beep…beep…beep…. 

In the corner of my eye, I noticed something I had never seen before, it looked like a guitar. Was it Enjolras’s? It was a beautiful piece of artwork, that guitar.

I closed my hand around his, and he looked up. His eyes were still wet and much redder than the rest of his face, and then I saw a tear fall. I smiled weakly at him, and he choked out a sob.

“I was so worried,” he breathed.

“I’m strong,” I replied. “Don’t worry.”

“I always worry.” He glanced down at my wrist, which was bandaged. “Before I was just afraid these would happen again. You did this because of me…”

“Bullshit,” I grumbled. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I got mad, I had no right too hit you—”

“You had more right than they did! I was a drunken fool, it took one little slap to knock some sense into me.”

He kissed my hand, letting the kiss linger. I moved my hand to hold his jaw, my thumb brushing the tears away. He closed his eyes, inhaling shakily, and put one hand over mine.

“Come closer.”

Obeying, he slid his chair closer. Taking every bit of strength I had, I sat up and leaned over to kiss him, my hand holding the back of his neck. He returned the kiss before pushing me back. But he moved even closer, keeping a hand on my chest to prevent me from sitting up again. His touch was gentle.

“You’ve been unconscious for four days,” he said. “Doctors said you had a pretty bad concussion, four broken ribs, a broken knee. Some stitches in your wrists, not a lot. I was worried sick, I was almost certain I wouldn’t get to hold you again, that I wouldn’t be marrying you…”

“I thought you were going to call off our engagement. I was so scared that you didn’t love me…”

“Never in a million years.”

He leaned in and kissed me. “But now you’re safe. I’m not leaving you ever, okay? Even if Courfeyrac tries to interrupt.”

“Did my mother come?”

He nodded. “Yes, she did. She went home, though. I wanted her to rest, she looks exhausted. No offense to her, but she looks like she’s carrying twins.”

I laughed, then nodded. My eyes once again flickered to the guitar, and he followed my gaze. He smiled a little. “I see you noticed my guitar.”

“I didn’t know you even had a guitar.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Will you play for me?”

He nodded, standing and going to grab the guitar. He positioned it on his knee, tuning it a little. After a moment, he looked to me. “What song?”

I shrugged. “Anything.”

He hummed, and began playing a more upbeat song. I didn’t recognise the tune, which was unusual considering I listened to so much music. But I soon understood why.

It was his own song.

I listened to the music, eyeing his hands as they strummed the guitar strings quickly. At first I thought he was good, but then he started to sing. His voice was amazing, there was no doubt about that. And his own lyrics were magnificent.

‘Some people often speculate  
If I will ever have a date.  
I tell them always “It isn’t true.”  
But that was before I ever met you.

Your eyes, they had a certain spark  
And your neck was one I longed to mark.  
In my eyes you are my star,  
The one I call my Capital R.

Our lips did meet that cold autumn night  
The moon above was shining bright.  
I moved with you inside your car  
Making sweet love to my Capital R.

It took a short time for me to fall  
And in my mind you were easy to recall.  
I fell in love, and before I knew  
I only wanted to be with you.

Capital R, you stole my heart.  
Please promise me we’ll never be apart.  
Your arms feel so right around me,   
And in your hold I long to be.

My friends will tell you I am cold,   
And that you should not be so bold.  
I’m not worth your time, I often say  
But you still come to me every day.

Just as to warriors love to spar,  
I adore you so, my Capital R.  
As two birds of a feather would be,  
It’s my Capital R, just him and me.’

I beamed at him. I wanted to jump up and hug him, but my injuries prevented that. I reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, tugging him in and kissing him deeply. He let out a soft moan, hand clutching at my shirt. 

“I forgot to mention musicians are hot,” I breathed against his lips.

He kissed me again. “I have another one. I’ve got a few.”

“Sing me more, please!”

He glanced down at my hand and I let go, flushing in response. After a moment, he began to play a second song, this one a little slower.

‘If you had a chance to change,  
What is it you would rearrange?  
Would you change a part of you?  
Or would you change the world’s view?

Maybe your hair isn’t pretty enough.  
Maybe your skin is a bit too rough.  
Your eyes of blue don’t look so good—  
That doesn’t not mean “Shed your blood.”

Perhaps you think that you’re too tall.  
Or could it be that you’re too small?  
Your stomach, you think, is a bit too big  
So you aim to be as skinny as a twig.

That hair of yours is much too wild  
And only right when on a child.  
Your favourite clothes no longer fit,  
And ‘cos of this your wrists are slit.

You want to change ‘cos you can’t see  
You are full of inner and outer beauty.  
No matter what you think and say,   
No matter how much you ask me to go away.

You are so perfect the way you are  
(Even though that is a tad bizarre).  
My love for you still grows and grows,  
But why am I the only one who knows?

There is nothing I want to change,  
No part or piece I would exchange.  
There is no piece I’d get rid of,  
Every facet of you is one I love.

Change can be good, change can be bad  
But either way you’ll end up mad.  
You shouldn’t change the person you are,  
The one I love, my shining star.’

This one hit home, it really did. Every song he wrote somehow did, but this one more so. I had always viewed myself as an imperfect person. I was imperfectly imperfect. But this was his way telling me otherwise. I wanted to hear more, but when I asked he said no. He wanted me to rest, pushing me back against the pillows. 

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Please, Dionysus, sleep. You need your rest.”

“Sing me to sleep?” I asked. “Please?”

He sighed, smiling, and nodded. “Of course.”

I snuggled under the covers, and he sang me a few songs. None of the ones he sang to me were his own songs, they were all covers. He sang various tunes from decades past, even a few Broadway songs, which surprised me. It took me a few minutes to fall asleep, but there was no mistaking the smile on my face, even as I dozed off.


	9. Chapitre Neuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WEDDING.

My hands were trembling and I looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I look hideous,” I mumbled, trying to fix my hair. Behind me, Maman grabbed my shoulders and swatted my hand away.

“Don’t mess your hair up, it looks fine.”

“I look like a fool with short hair, Maman.”

“You look fine. It’s still curly, too, so Edward’s got those lovely curls to play with on your honeymoon.” 

I ran a hand through my hair nevertheless. It was odd, being able to see my face, but Enjolras had done the same to his own hair — cut off his golden locks in favour of a shorter hair style. I would miss tugging on those curls when we were alone. It was a sacrifice we both made for our wedding, but I was almost certain we would soon have our long hair again. 

“Mon fils,” Maman whispered, turning me around. She reached up and cradled my jaw in her hand. “You have grown up so much. You are not yet nineteen and you are getting married!”

I smiled and kissed her cheek. “I am nervous, Maman.”

She smiled softly. “You have a right to be. But once you are up there with your beloved, you will feel all nerves fade.” At that, I held back a sound of disgust. How would she know? She wasn’t even married, nor had she ever been married.

The door opened and in came Joly, who smiled at me. “You ready? E’s all set.”

Was I ready? I wasn’t entirely sure, because I was nervous as hell. Maman hooked her arm around mine, giving me a look. There was no need for me to answer Joly, because the look in her eyes said I had no choice. She wanted me to get married now. 

“I’m ready, Joly,” I answered, taking a deep breath. 

Maman pulled me over to the door, looking up at me. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to walk you up the aisle. When you were young I thought that you would be marrying some lovely young lady, and you would be a few years older. And then when you came out, I never thought you would be marrying. A civil partnership, maybe, but not marriage…”

“You sound disappointed,” I teased.

“No, of course not! Edward is a lovely young man, and I wouldn’t want to give you away to just any other young man. Plus he’s very responsible.”

I didn’t mention the barricades to her yet, nor did I plan on it any time soon. And suddenly there was music playing — I don’t remember the name, but it was a typical song you would hear at a wedding. The big wooden doors opened and my grip on Maman’s arm tightened. Immediately I ducked my head, because all eyes were on me and I hated being the center of attention. 

My head still down, I raised my eyes. First I noticed my family — aunts, uncles, cousins, my future stepfather. And then on Enjolras’s side, there was his foster mother and her boyfriend, and his foster siblings; there were a few other people, most of which I did not recognise. 

But then I noticed Enjolras. Even from one end of the aisle, I noticed the adventure in those eyes of his. His suit was black, but his tie and boutonnière were blood red. I smiled fondly, knowing full well he loved those colours. His hair was short, parted to the side. And highlighted a little. I giggled a little, glancing to Maman as we started to walk. I noticed everyone looking at me, which made me blush furiously.

Enjolras finally turned, and his smile faded as we approached. Was he unhappy? Did I look bad? I looked down at myself. The white suit looked fine. The coal button-down was tucked in and buttoned in the right places. Even the red tie was straight as ever. Why wasn’t he smiling?

He stepped down, meeting me and my mère. She looked at me, then kissed my cheek. After a beat, she turned her tear-filled eyes to Enjolras.

“Take good care of my son,” she said, eyeing him. It was as though she wanted to be frightening, but she couldn’t. She kissed his cheek, then kissed me again before hurrying off to join Claude in the front pew.

Enjolras offered me his arm, and I took it. He led me up to the kneelers placed at the front of the altar, looking to me. 

“You look….Gorgeous.”

“Look who’s talking.”

The priest, Bishop Myriel, cleared his throat and the both of us looked to him. He offered a calm, gentle smile.

“Boys, if you will be so kind, please be quiet.”

Enjolras squeezed my hand, and I barely paid attention. I was so focused on this moment, becoming one with my beloved Apollo. Looking down, I fidgeted with the sleeves of my shirt. His fingers brushed against the scars on my wrist, and I heard him whisper that everything would be okay and he would make all that was bad good again.

Bishop Myriel looked at Enjolras, smiling. “It is time to exchange your vows and the rings. Please turn and face each other, and please hold hands.”

Enjolras smiled as we turned to each other, and he took both of my hands in his own. “I, Edward Enjolras, affirm my love to you, Nicholas Grantaire, as I invite you to share my life. You are the most beautiful, smart, and generous person I have ever known, and I promise always to respect you and love you. With kindness, unselfishness and trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together. I take you, Nicholas, to be my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live.”

Myriel handed him a ring, a gorgeous golden wedding band. Already I was choked up, I knew I would have trouble saying my own vows.

“Nicholas,” Enjolras breathed as he slipped the ring on with my engagement ring, “with this ring, I thee wed.”

I sniffed, trying my best to hold back tears. Bishop Myriel nodded to me, and I took a shaky but deep breath.

“Edward Enjolras, today I become your h-husband and you become mine. I will strive to give you the best of myself, while accepting you the way you are. I promise to respect you as a whole person with y-your own interests, desires, and needs, and to realize that those are sometimes different, but no less important than my own.” Suddenly I found myself unable to continue, a stupid smile on my face and tears running down my cheeks. I looked at the ground, taking a deep breath and attempting to gather my wits to at least make it through my vows and giving him the ring. “I promise to keep myself o-open to you, to let you in to my innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams. I promise to grow along with you, to be willing to face change as we both change, keeping our relationship a-alive and exciting. And finally…” I took a deep breath again, my voice shaky and faltering a bit. “...finally I promise to love you in good times and in b-bad, with all I have to give and all that I am, in the only way I know how — completely and f-forever.”

I took the ring, another golden wedding band. I had picked it myself, and on the sides of it were our initials and tumblr URLs. Taking his hand in mine, I slipped the ring on his finger.

“E-Edward, with this ring, I thee wed…”

“By the power vested in me,” the bishop said, looking to our guests, “I pronounce you a married couple.” He glanced back at us. “You may now kiss the bridegroom.”

One of Enjolras’s hands touched my waist and he pulled me closer, his other hand immediately cupping my cheek as his lips pressed against mine. I put one hand on his chest, closing my eyes and relaxing in his arms. There was a thunderous applause as we kissed, and suddenly a shout. 

“Edward’s getting laid tonight!”

Our kiss broke, my face flushing, no doubt. Enjolras turned, and, standing in the front row, was Christian Courfeyrac. I buried my face in Enjolras’s neck, and he chuckled as he kissed my ear. 

“I love you, Dionysus,” he murmured.

I smiled. “I love you too, Apollo.”

And that was it. We were married. Finally, we were united! Monsieur and Monsieur Edward Enjolras. I hummed. We were so accustomed to calling each other by our last names, though. But I had a better idea. Monsieur and Monsieur Apollo. I giggled at the thought, and Enjolras smiled and held me tight against him before escorting me out of the Church.

***

A moan escaped my lips as I felt his teeth against my throat, his hand stroking my member furiously. My fingers grasped onto the back of his coat, tugging down and clenching the fabric. 

“Come for me, Dionysus,” he purred. He captured my lips in a passionate kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip. His hand tugged a little. “Do me a favour and come for me…”

It was hard to resist, with that tone. I would have released myself and been loud about it, but his lips were crushed against mine and muffled me. But my body shook as I came, and I whimpered. He smirked and kissed me again.    
“You’re so handsome, you know. All undone for me like that, right before we go into our wedding party.” He peppered my face and neck with kisses, pulling my trousers and boxers up. “I can’t wait until our honeymoon, I’ll be able to screw you senseless.”

I tucked my shirt back in, swallowing. “I’ll get the upper hand once, I mean it.” To be honest, however, I doubted I would ever dominate him. He was the Alpha, and I was more than content with it.

He helped me ready myself, wiping the sweat from my skin. I fixed his hair, getting it back into the nice way it had been before. My heart was still beating wildly in my chest and my body was buzzing from the orgasm I had just endured. But the smile I wore was wider than I think it has ever been in my entire life.

“Are you ready?” he asked, kissing me softly and going to open the bathroom door.

I nodded, quickly hurrying after him and taking his hand. He fixed my tie and collar, hiding the marks he had left on me, and tugged me along. Joly smiled at us, then stepped into the doors.

“May I be the first to say, welcome and congratulations to Monsieur and Monsieur Apollo!”

There was laughter and more applause as we stepped inside, and we smiled and beamed at each other. With idiotic grins on our faces, we made our way through the crowd. We passed my mother and she hugged me, and Enjolras hugged his own mother. Then we sat down, his hand holding mine. 

“You told Joly to introduce us like that, didn’t you?”

I grinned, looking down at my lap. “Maybe.” I glanced back up at his face.

He started at me, aghast. “You little shit!”

Before anything could happen, I jumped up right out of my seat and started running towards the bar, giggling like mad. I was able to lose him and hid behind the bar, sneaking around and under the entrance, and snuck up behind him. I ignored that people were whispering about us, stifling their laughter. There was a moment his back was to me, and he glanced around looking at me. Taking this as my moment, I pounced on his back, locking my hands around his waist. 

He made a surprised sound, much like a shout, and turned his head and laughed. “You’re such a child!”

Once he had finally pried me off, he turned around and held me in his arms. 

“Hey, let’s see them dance!”

I blinked, turning my head. “Dance?” I echoed. “Oh, no…”

He looked down at me. I had made him pick the song we were dancing to, only because I really didn’t like to dance. I couldn’t dance, I was always tripping over myself even when I was sober!

“You look so adorable, you know.”

“Flattery won’t make me dance.”

He chuckled, pulling me towards the dance floor. “You’re right, but I can make you.”

My eyes must have widened a lot, but I felt Maman push me forward. 

“Let me see you dance, chéri,” she asked.

I huffed, and suddenly Enjolras pulled me against his chest. His lips caressed my cheek lightly before he whispered softly, “I know you took classes, you dork.”

I blushed, but nodded. 

“This is your typical ballroom dancing, it’s okay. Do you want to lead?”

I shook my head. “No, you lead.”

He smiled, and suddenly the music began. I recognised it from ‘Wicked’ and I looked up at him. 

“You sing Elpheba’s part, I’ll sing Fiyero’s.”

I nodded, and we started to dance. Our movements were very professional, with the exception of me stumbling once or twice. And we started to sing.

“Kiss me too fiercely  
Hold me too tight  
I need help believing  
You're with me tonight.”

I paused, surprised at what I heard. No Elpheba. Just…Me. When I glanced down, I noticed that there was a small, red microphone attached to my tie. I looked at him, completely agog by this. But nevertheless, I kept singing for him.

“My wildest dreamings  
Could not foresee  
Lying beside you  
With you wanting me.  
Just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
I've lost all resistance  
And crossed some borderline.  
And if it turns out  
It's over too fast  
I'll make every last moment last  
As long as you're mine.”

Enjolras smiled, kissing my jaw lovingly. He hummed a bit, then started singing along as well.

“Maybe I'm brainless  
Maybe I'm wise  
But you've got me seeing  
Through different eyes.  
Somehow I've fallen  
Under your spell,  
And somehow I'm feeling  
It's up that I fell.”

And then we both started to sing.

“Every moment  
As long as you're mine  
I'll wake up my body  
And make up for lost time.  
Say there's no future  
For us as a pair,  
And though I may know,  
I don't care.  
Just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
Come be how you want to  
And see how bright we shine.  
Borrow the moonlight  
Until it is through  
And know I'll be here  
Holding you  
As long as you're mine.”

When our song ended, I curled up in his arms. “Oh god, Apollo, I love you.” 

He smiled, pressing his forehead against mine. “I love you more.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that left my lips, and he kissed me. There was no doubt that we would be dancing more throughout the night.

We had our dinner, some filet mignon for the both of us. It was delicious. The entire time his hand held mine — save for when we were cutting our food. When we finished, we went to dance a little more. He told me there was another song that we would have to do, only because he really wanted to sing a little more. (His guilty pleasure was singing, after all, and it wasn’t often I was given the chance to indulge myself in front of others.)

We went out to stand under the stars for a little while, looking out over the balcony. My back was against his chest, his arms locked around my waist, my arms holding his and his head resting against mine. Slowly, our bodies rocked along with the music. This moment was perfect, and no other sticks in my memory the way this one does.


	10. Chapitre Dix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, the honeymoon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely, lovely Miruna for assisting me with the first paragraph! Writers block was fierce and she really helped out.

Honeymoon. The moment when you go somewhere far away from troubles that home promise. You paid for the greatest wedding possible and then you get a break. Thank God! You think you’ll be spending it with your other half, when he suggests that perhaps you should spend time doing other things. You wonder what exactly. I always thought you were supposed to walk along beautiful beaches, feel the sun on your skin, and enjoy the gorgeous sights your chosen destination offers. So, the second night during my honeymoon, my Apollo suggested that we should come undone together. Because it’s such a special day, they say, even though you are so tired. After a bit of negotiation — which involved a promise to go to that nice theatre back home — we ended up in our hotel room. While you could be enjoying the beautiful sunset, the mesmerising colours and melodious sounds, you are taken into that room of yours. I never liked staying still, but at least you don’t have to. Sex with my other half always involved fun little games we both enjoyed, even though I’d rather do something else. At least, we get to know each other. You can never stop exploring your lover’s body enough.

I was eager to consummate our marriage. The one time Enjolras and I had made love, it was wonderful. But now there was no turning back. Once we had slept together on this night, our marriage was final.

It started off as the perfect day. I woke up with my head on his shoulder, his arm around my waist. I woke him up by peppering his face in soft kisses. His laughter sticks in my head to this day, and it still lulls me to sleep when the ghosts of my past haunt me. After we showered together, we went down for breakfast before we went about the town. 

When night finally fell, he took me to dinner and then we went dancing. The night was spent cheek-to-cheek, for the most part, from that moment on. After dinner we went to the beach, and there we cuddled. Both of us dozed off, but not for very long, and he carried me like a child back to our hotel room. 

He suggested skinny-dipping. I agreed, and we went into the private jacuzzi that came with out room. That’s when he said that we should have sex, and that’s when the foreplay began. A few gropes in the jacuzzi, tons of making out. 

We dried off together, his hips grinding against mine, and we went to the bedroom hand in hand. 

“Grantaire, baby,” he said, kissing my lips tenderly, “oh, baby, I love you so much.”

I sat down on the bed, and he straddled my lap. His fingers tangled in my hair, his lips against mine. All composure I had left quickly faded and I fell back underneath him, my arms around his waist. I felt his erection against my stomach, and he smiled against my lips. 

“On your hands and knees, Dionysus.”

I swallowed and obeyed without question. He climbed off, and I rolled over and propped myself on my hands and knees. His fingers caressed my skin, curling on my hips. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but at the same time I was positive I needed this, wanted this. His cool lips touched my shoulder, making their way down my spine. A shiver ran through me, shaking my whole body. His kisses grew deeper the lower he went.

It’s hard to say exactly what I was expecting, but what happened was definitely not what I had been. His tongue ran across my entrance, and I yelped in pleasant surprise. I’m sure he loved the reaction, because he did it again. He did it a few more times before stopping, and then he stopped. Just as I was about to turn to see why, his hips jerked forward and his cock was inside me. I swore under my breath, wincing and clutching the pillow tight.

“Oh, god, Dionysus, you’re so tight, feels so nice…”

“Sh-Shut up,” I gasped, not liking the fact it had been a while since I had last been laid. I pushed back against him, wanting more of him. His body rocked, back and forth, and my heart was beating wildly in my chest. Repeatedly I cried out his name, and each time he reacted by kissing my back.

Maybe ten minutes, twenty minutes later his hand snaked around to my front, taking my cock in his hand. Already, I was close to the edge, but his movements would bring me there. He stroked, harder and harder. I came with a shout, and he soon followed, spilling inside me.

I don’t remember exactly how long this went on. I know for a fact I orgasmed at least five times, and I know for a fact we didn’t stop until the end of the following day. When we finally ended, he pulled me under the covers and held me closer than he ever had before. I was at ease.

I had not a care in the world. I was more than happy with him by my side. His breathing helped me to sleep that night, and I remained in his arms for the rest of our time in Crete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating whether or not the next chapter should be the last. I had a major cliffhanger planned, and a sequel after. Should I write a sequel, or should I just make it all one big story?


End file.
